


Knew It Was You

by birlcholtz (justwhatialwayswanted)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 3.26 aftermath, Accidental Marriage, Coming Out, M/M, coping with fic, elopement, well i don't know how accidental it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwhatialwayswanted/pseuds/birlcholtz
Summary: The day after winning the Stanley Cup, Jack wakes up in an unfamiliar room with Bitty by his side.Itsybittle asked for this on Tumblr and I live to serve.





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itsybittle (SweetCaroline91)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetCaroline91/gifts).



Jack can’t remember the last time he woke up before his alarm. The sunlight stretches over the bed, and he has to squint because the room seems pretty bright— wait, hang on, of course he woke up before his alarm. He remembers turning it off yesterday just before leaving for the game, because whether they won or lost, he definitely wouldn’t want to run today.

Jack starts to sit up, but then he has to lie back down as his head throbs unexpectedly.  _ Ugh. _ That explains why the room seems so bright. This is going to be a bitch of a hangover— he didn’t drink  _ that _ much last night, but it was definitely more than he usually does. His lowered tolerance plus the exhilaration of having won the Stanley Cup—  _ fuck, _ he still can’t believe they actually won— equals a hangover.

Well. At least it’s the offseason now, so he has plenty of time to get over it.

With his eyes shut, he reaches out for the water bottle he always keeps on the nightstand (to prevent frequent middle-of-the-night water trips), but his hand waves through thin air. He tries a little further over— maybe he didn’t place it exactly in his usual position last night?

Still nothing.

It’s weird enough that Jack slowly rolls over and inches his eyes open, just barely enough to see the nightstand.

Or rather, the  _ lack _ of nightstand, and the unfamiliar chair in the corner of the room and the shades partially drawn over a window in the middle of a wall, where there should just be windows.

_ What the fuck? _

He distinctly remembers getting back to his apartment last night, giggling, almost hysterical with Bitty, both of them exhilarated after winning the Cup and kissing in the middle of the ice and the champagne and sometimes finally stopping to breathe and then making eye contact and bursting into laughter again because it was  _ real. _

Other people had been there too— he remembers a group hug that lasted for so long that Ransom’s phone buzzed six times before anyone let go— but soon people had either drifted out the door for Ubers or made their own sleeping arrangements involving scrounging blankets and pillows from every possible corner (more than Jack owns— he’s pretty sure Lardo brought some of her own) and creating a pile in front of the couch.

He inches his eyes open a little more, hangover be damned, and what he sees confirms that he’s not at home. The blankets are the wrong color, and there’s an open door in the corner that he can tell leads to a small bathroom, and he’s in a hotel bedroom.

Bitty is still on his side of the bed, though, which is what convinces Jack that he’s not in some weird alternate universe. He can’t see Señor Bun, but that’s not unusual. What he  _ can _ see is the hood of Bitty’s Falconers hoodie. Did Bitty wear clothes to bed? Did  _ Jack _ wear clothes to bed? He looks down at himself. T-shirt and boxers. It’s entirely possible.

Bitty still looks totally asleep, so Jack is as quiet as possible when he sits up ( _ so  _ slowly, because it feels like every muscle he has is sore), pulls back the blankets on his side, and gets out of bed. He’s mastered this after so many early morning runs, but he’s still proud that he accomplishes this without Bitty so much as twitching. Just the same deep, slow breaths. And Jack promptly finds a pair of his jeans and a windbreaker on the floor, so that explains where the rest of his clothes are.

Okay. That’s settled. Now, he needs to find his phone and figure out where he is and why.

The first two questions are the easiest. His phone’s on the floor next to an outlet, but there’s no charger that Jack can see, and when he tries to turn his phone on, the screen stays dark. There’s a little card next to the sink in the bathroom, proclaiming that he’s in the Hotel Providence, with a list of amenities after that. Room service and free Wi-Fi are what stand out to him the most, although the Wi-Fi is pretty useless until he can get to a charger.

Come to think of it, he’s not even sure he has his wallet. He’s pretty sure he didn’t unpack his game bag after getting home, and that’s where he would put his wallet if he didn’t have it in his pocket. There’s no sign of any luggage in the hotel room— in fact, the nook that Jack had thought was a closet was actually a small hanging cupboard and a shelf, the latter holding an electric kettle, some styrofoam cups, and packs of instant coffee, tea, hot chocolate, sugar, and sweetener. 

One of the styrofoam cups is sitting in front of the kettle instead of being stacked upside down with its fellows. Jack tiptoes over to look and finds that it’s half full of water, and there’s a few empty packs of sugar next to it.

Weirdly enough, seeing that brings back a memory of Bitty saying, “Of  _ course _ I’m not going to use sweetener. Who on earth uses  _ fake sugar _ in their wedding cake?”

That sparks a bunch of other little memories, like barging into the lobby late at night because it was the closest hotel they could find, and running down the sidewalks laughing, and Bitty making up an interpretive dance to the song playing in the elevator. They flash by in Jack’s head like pictures— wait, his camera.

Jack only has to hunt a little before he finds his camera nestled in the corner. He can actually turn this one on, and he apparently took a  _ lot _ of pictures last night.

There’s a bunch of pictures of the Stanley Cup, all of them with various people in the shot grinning, and there’s Bitty standing under a streetlight, beaming at the camera, with his Falconers hoodie zipped up to his chin and his hands out, beckoning. And then there’s a few of Bitty somewhere that Jack can’t make out the background, and then there’s some of Jack that Bitty must have taken, most of them smiling, one where he’s sticking his tongue out, and there’s Bitty holding two to go cups and there’s Bitty scrawling hearts on Jack’s cup, and then there’s Bitty, with a double thumbs up, standing in front of the city hall for some reason, and then there’s only one more picture, this one of Bitty happy crying.

Huh.

Just then, the blankets rustle, and Bitty murmurs, “Where are you?” Then he says, “Ow, bright.”

“Right here, bud,” Jack says. He puts the camera down and pulls the shades completely over the window. “How’s that?”

“ _ So _ much better.” Bitty sits up, one hand combing through his hair, the other hand holding Señor Bun. He looks around, then back at Jack. “Uh?”

Jack can only shrug and hand him the camera. “If your phone has any battery left, we should probably call... someone. Mine’s dead.”

“Agreed,” Bitty says, looking through the photos. “Did we really go to the city hall?”

“Must’ve, I don’t know any other buildings nearby that look like that.”

“Weird,” Bitty says. He hands the camera back to Jack, and as he does, light gleams off something on his left hand.

“What’s that?” Jack asks, because anything will help them piece together what exactly happened last night.

“What’s what?”

“On your hand.”

Bitty looks at his hand, then looks again, right as Jack does his own double take, because Bitty is wearing a gold band around his ring finger that Jack would  _ know _ about if it had been there before.

Bitty’s gaze immediately jumps to Jack’s hands, and then he says, “You’ve got one too, Jack. What  _ happened?” _

“I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure we may have gone to city hall and gotten married?”

Bitty blinks a couple of times, and then he says, “That explains why I was dreaming about tuxedos.”

“Are you, um, okay with all this?”

There’s that blinking again, and Jack is worried, but then Bitty’s eyes clear and he says, “Oh, sweetpea, I knew it was you. I knew it was gonna be you for a long time. I just... oh, lord, we  _ eloped, _ my Moomaw will be so mad.”

A laugh bubbles out of Jack. “She had her heart set on a big wedding?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Bitty’s quiet for a moment. “I mean, I was too. Got the Pinterest boards and everything.”

“Hey.” Jack gets back on the bed and grabs Bitty’s hand. “We can still do that. We just don’t have to tell anyone we already made it official.”

Bitty laughs. “I like that. Although I have to warn you, my mother will be a force to be reckoned with when it comes to things like weddings.”

“I’m pretty sure my parents can match her.”

“Oh, I’m sure they can, but she’ll make them fight for it.”

“That I believe.”

They sit there for a while in the dim room, Jack still holding Bitty’s hand in both of his, when Bitty slides out from under the blankets. “I  _ desperately _ need some water.”

“There’s cups over there,” Jack says. “One of them already has water in it, but I’m pretty sure there’s also three packets of sugar, so you may not want to drink that.”

“Don’t tell me, that’s the cake.”

“It... yeah, I think it is.”

_“Depressing._ ” Bitty goes over to investigate the cup. “Yeah, this is sad. When we get home, I’m making a real cake.”

“That’s funny, I’m pretty sure you told me last night that it was a real cake because you were using real sugar instead of sweetener.”

“Yeah? Well, I distinctly remember you saying you had enough pictures of the Stanley Cup that it was basically there and counted as a witness, so I think we’re even.”

“I didn’t say that, did I?”

Bitty sips his water. “You did.”

Jack chuckles. “Wow.” Now that Bitty mentions it, the memory’s coming back of him showing the judge all the pictures on his camera. “So who was the witness?”

“Don’t know. Somehow, I don’t think you convinced the judge.” Jack can see Bitty’s smile over the cup. “It was probably some random pedestrian.”

“Maybe it was Lord Stanley.”

“Or Señor Bun.”

“Is he old enough to be a legal witness?”

“I will have you know that he is at least twenty years old, judging by how long I’ve had him.”

“Fair enough.”

Bitty finishes his cup of water, then says, “You wouldn’t happen to know where my phone is, would you?”

“Sorry, no idea. If it’s not here, you probably left it at home.”

“Probably.” He straightens his hoodie, then looks up at Jack and beams. “Ready to go see what happened while we were gone?”

“That’ll be fun.” Jack swings his legs over the side of the bed. “Just let me put on some pants.”


	2. Round One

“Did he respond?” Ransom asks.

Shitty shakes his head. It’s been ten minutes since he sent Jack a  _ ‘yo where are u’ _ text. “Maybe his phone’s dead? I mean, he knows he’s gotta be at the presser. If he doesn’t show up there, then we’ve got a problem.”

They all lean over the counter to watch his phone, and Shitty wonders what sort of picture they’re making, with Lardo still mostly engulfed by blanket, Holster’s glasses on his head, and Ransom looking generally perfect. 

“I feel like this isn’t gonna help,” Lardo comments, but she doesn’t make any move to get up from the stool she’s sitting on.

“I’ll turn on the TV,” Holster volunteers. “If they go straight to the presser, we’ll see Jack.”

It’s right when Holster picks up the remote that Shitty’s phone buzzes. 

“ _ Holster,” _ the rest of them say, almost exactly in unison, and he rushes back to the counter.

 

**Jack:** Haha. Sorry.

**Jack:** Bits and I are in a hotel.

**Jack:** We’re coming home right now before the presser.

**Jack:** Sorry you worried. :-)

**Shitty:** hotel?? brah tf

**Shitty:** when did u even leave the apartment

**Jack:** Not sure exactly when. Sometime late. We’ll be there in a bit.

 

“Huh.” Ransom scrolls up and down like he can find hidden messages in the conversation. “Maybe they wanted to get away from the party for a while?”

“Makes sense,” Shitty says. “Jack probably needed to process shit.”

Lardo nods, satisfied with that, and claims the best spot on the couches to watch the TV from. “Holster, you said you were turning this on?”

“Right.”

 

Bitty can hear ESPN the moment he unlocks the door. The next thing he hears is multiple pairs of feet thudding against the floor on their way to the doorway where he and Jack are standing.

They’d discussed it in the hotel and agreed that the best thing to do for now would be taking off the wedding rings. He’d found a marriage certificate that definitely looked official propped up on the toilet seat cover, and it was now residing in Jack’s camera bag, where it hopefully wasn’t too creased. All in all, it was a pretty easy cover-up, so they would have plenty of time to figure out exactly what to do and when to do it.

Which is good, because Bitty is still riding the high of the Stanley Cup, and who knows what sort of harebrained ideas he might come up with, given the opportunity.

Shitty is the first one to come into view, and he barrels into both Bitty and Jack like he hasn’t seen them in weeks. It’s comparable to the hug Bitty got from him the first time he came back to visit the Haus after graduating, except this time Shitty isn’t wearing a shirt. So, overall, pretty normal.

Bitty can also hear (but not see) Lardo, who’s saying, “We plugged in your phone, by the way. Also put it on silent. It’s been blowing up for three hours at least.”

“Thanks,” he says in her general direction. “Jack’s phone was dead, and we couldn’t find the charger, so we just went to Starbucks and charged it there.”

“That was when I texted you back,” Jack says to Shitty, who finally lets go, just in time for Ransom and Holster to swoop in.

“You’re a god,” Holster says to Jack. “A hockey god. A god. Of. Hockey. And I think I said that last night, but also last night is pretty fuzzy so I had to say it again.”

They stay like that for a while, and eventually Shitty re-joins the group hug, and then Lardo does too (as well as she can with her blanket), and Bitty loses track of how long they’re just standing in the doorway in a huge group hug.

Finally, Jack says, “Okay, this is great, but I need to, like, shower.”

Those turn out to be the magic words, and everyone breaks apart, and Bitty shuts the door since it was apparently open the whole time, and once Lardo and Holster and Shitty are watching TV again and Jack’s in the shower, it’s Ransom who says quietly, “Your parents called a few times.”

“Oh,” is all Bitty can say.

“They left some voicemails, and I think they texted you too. Let us know if you want us to relay a message or something, okay? Like anything, I know you and Jack have each other’s backs but we’ve got them too. Just say the word.”

“Thank you,” and it doesn’t sound like enough, but Ransom grins at him and Bitty figures he probably gets it. “I will.”

“Good,” Ransom says, and then he joins the rest of them on the couches.

 

Soon Bitty realizes they were the easiest people to come back to.

 

**Tater:** b

**Tater:** b

**Tater:** b

**Tater:** b

**Tater:** u there???

**Tater:** gm wants to know is jack coming over soon

**Bitty:** yeah, he’s in the shower and then he’ll be on his way over

**Bitty:** i think he also wants to brush his teeth?

**Tater:** say good morning from me ))))

**Tater:** talking to reporters before he gets here

**Bitty:** ok will do!

 

Bitty puts his phone down, and then it promptly starts buzzing again. 

 

**Tater:** lots of people here

**Tater:** george says you can come, hang out with gabby and kids in breakfast nook

**Tater:** see you here! ))))

 

He looks at the message, then yesterday’s clothes that he’s still wearing, and then he plugs his phone back in and goes in search of something he can wear to the presser.

Jack bumps into him quite literally in the hallway, wet-haired and barefoot but otherwise ready, and the first thing Bitty says is, “Check, Monsieur Zimmermann.” The second thing he says is, “Tater texted, apparently there’s a lot of people there and Gabby and the kids are in the breakfast nook if I want to join.”

“Check,” Jack responds, and then he says, “Oh, cool. Are you going to come?”

“ _ Heard that,” _ Shitty yells down the hallway. 

Bitty ignores the sounds of Ransom, Holster, and Lardo snickering. “Yeah, think so. I just should probably change.”

“Okay. Leaving in fifteen?”

“Fifteen’s good.” And then, because he can, he leans up and pecks Jack on the lips, and then he goes to brush his teeth. 

In the bathroom, there’s an orange Post-It on the counter. It says,  _ ‘I put everything from last night in the nightstand. Love you -JLZ.’ _

 

The car ride is quiet until a call from Alicia comes through on Jack’s phone. Bitty puts it on speaker since Jack’s driving, and instantly a stream of gibberish that sounds like both Bob and Alicia talking over each other comes through the speakers.

“Hi,” Bitty says loudly, so he can be heard over them. 

The gibberish stops, and then Alicia says, “Hi, number fifteen! Is Jack there?”

“Hi,” Jack says. “I’m driving to the presser.”

“Oh, great! We’re actually with Gabby and the other WAGs right now, so we’ll see you when you get here. Just wanted to call to check in and make sure everything’s okay.”

“Things are good, yeah,” Jack says. “How long are you free today?”

This time, it’s Bob’s voice. “All day! We’ve got hotel reservations for the rest of the week, and then last night George Martin said she was moving the presser to this morning, so we figured we’d drop by—”

“Bobby wants to punch a guy from  _ ESPN _ , and he heard he’d be here today,” Alicia says drily.

“Completely justified,” Bob says. “Anyway, we’re here! See you soon!” The call disconnects.

“I have a feeling they want to go to lunch today,” Jack says. Bitty can see the corners of his mouth quirking up. “I mean, besides brawling with reporters.”

“A little variety is good for you,” Bitty replies, and it’s not long before Jack pulls into a parking spot and they both hurry inside the center, just on the offchance that any reporters are hoping to catch them outside.

George, Marty, and Thirdy are right inside, waiting for them, and the door has barely swung closed before they’re engulfed in their second hockey player pile of the day, except this time it’s the Falcs, and it’s significantly shorter. Soon, everyone lets go, and George makes sure they’re walking as they talk.

“If you hadn’t texted to say you were coming over, I’m pretty sure George would have gotten a search warrant,” Marty says.

George scoffs. “I wouldn’t have done  _ that.” _

“You would have,” Thirdy says.

“...I disagree.” She turns to Jack. “It’s kind of a circus in there. We’re all ready to step in, but if something’s too personal or creepy or just a shitty question, feel free to refuse to answer. They all know it’s your life. Only share what you want to.”

Jack nods. “I’ve kind of figured out already what’s, ah, within the bounds. And I think my father is here just so he can punch someone?”

“Oh, yeah, that prick from ESPN? If you ask me, I don’t think Bob’s going to go through with it unless you give the go-ahead. But he  _ does _ deserve it, so. Keep that in mind.”

“Haha. I will.”

Next George turns to Bitty, who’s getting the sense that she’s memorized a list of things she needs to say before the presser and she’s going to get through them, come hell or high water. “The WAGs are kind of congregating in the breakfast nook, I think Tater told you. They’re expecting you, so just head on in— you know the way, right?” When Bitty nods, she says, “Cool. Would’ve walked there with you, but we should get going if we want to talk to the whole team before the presser starts.”

“No problem,” Bitty says. “I think I can manage.”

George gives him a quick smile. “If you couldn’t, I doubt you would be here at all.”

Then she’s off, with Jack and Marty and Thirdy in lock-step, and Bitty silently wishes them luck before going the opposite direction to the breakfast nook.

He hears it before he sees it— kids shrieking over the sounds of conversation and a TV, but when Bitty opens the door, everyone except for some of the younger kids falls dead quiet, and then they  _ explode _ into a frenzy of cheering and saying hello and is every person he meets today going to be like this? At least the Starbucks barista seemed too exhausted to know or care who he was or what happened last night.

“We’ve got the channel playing already,” Carrie says when she comes over to say hello. “You’re here just in time, they’re starting soon. Oh, and we’re thinking of having a get-together before everyone goes on vacations and whatever. Sort of a cookout thing, probably at our house. Possible days for it are on the group chat so make sure your schedule checks out!”

“Yeah, I’ve had my phone muted, sorry,” Bitty says, and she just smiles at him and nods in understanding before she’s off to get a little kid off the table and on the floor.

Bob swoops in next. “Hey, Bitty! Alicia’s raiding the snacks right now but we both checked and the reporters they’re letting in all seem like pretty good people. Very few assholes among them. So we can breathe easier. Besides, George’s there and nobody likes incurring her wrath.”

Alicia appears in the corner of Bitty’s vision, empty-handed, and Bitty can hear her call, “All of it is gross health food,” from across the room. She walks as she says it, and by the time she says, “Eric, please tell me they eat other things too,” she’s made it over to them.

“Plenty,” Bitty says.

“Nate hated him until he tried the rhubarb jam,” Gabby says before returning to her own conversation.

Someone cranks the volume of the TV, and when Bitty looks over at it, he can see the Falconers entering a room full of press.

“I’ve always thought the reason it’s called a presser is because they’re packed in like sardines,” Alicia mutters, but it’s perfectly audible to pretty much everyone, because they’re all waiting for someone on the screen to say the first word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is basically 2k of leading up and i am sorry about that but i was just too occupied getting through a bunch of major groups-- hence, titling this chapter 'round one'. round two will be posted ASAP! :)  
> thanks for reading, kudosing, and commenting <3  
> -mel


	3. Round Two

Jack is kind of amazed at how routine this feels.

He’s done pressers before, and he’s done pressers that are mostly about him before, and even if this  _ wasn’t _ mostly about him and Bitty, all these people are still here to hear about the Stanley Cup (which is safe and sound with George at the moment, but they’ll figure out the Cup Day schedule pretty soon). And yet here he is, staring out at the faces of the press, and it feels pretty... pretty manageable.

He accidentally makes eye contact with one of the reporters, who seems determined to stare Jack down. His lanyard says something in big red font, but it’s partially hidden by someone else’s elbow. Jack thinks back to his father’s vendetta, gives himself a split second to wonder, and then focuses back on George, who looks like she’s about ready to get this started, thank you very much.

Jack can see that one reporter from his peripheral vision, still focused on him. It’s a little disconcerting, but knowing that his dad is ready to punch is weirdly comforting, even though he’s already made up his mind to try and prevent any punching. They don’t need  _ more _ press coverage.

It’s only a matter of time until the questions turn to him, so Jack takes the moment to just sit there and breathe slowly. No matter what happens here, he can always just hunker down somewhere with Bitty for a month, ESPN access non-essential. He’d  _ like _ for this to go perfectly, but if it doesn’t, there are plenty of people ready to help out, and he’s gotten by before without the media loving him. Hell, that’s been a pretty significant portion of his life.

And he  _ did _ just win the Stanley Cup his rookie year. Jack’s pretty sure that gives him some extra points in the hockey world.

George opens up the press conference with a brief welcome to everyone there and a reminder that players are not obligated to answer every question. She says that every time, but this time it has enough of a bite to it that Jack can feel the tension among the reporters rise and the tension among the team fall.

She’d told all of them in the locker room not to feel abashed about taking over to talk about hockey for a while. If it had been an exhibition game, then this really would have been all about Jack, but fortunately for them, it wasn’t, and George had just about dared them to spend as long talking about the game as humanly possible. (Jack had been assured by multiple people that Tater was definitely taking it as a challenge, despite not having played.)

As the crowd of press shifts to get the best angles, Jack spots that lanyard again. This time, the guy stays still long enough for him to read it.

CNN.

George is scanning the crowd as she talks, and Jack’s pretty sure she’s looking for the same person he is, although he still doesn’t know who exactly this person is. At some point, her shoulders relax a little in relief, and she sits back down. Thirdy takes her place as the most senior alternate, and the questions begin.

They’re about hockey, pretty much. One person in the back asks if he has plans for his Cup Day, to which Thirdy says, “No, but I’ve got it narrowed down to three ideas. Don’t worry about it, I’ll definitely post pictures.”

He continues answering questions about play, about the team, about fans, until finally, someone else says, “And can you give us your thoughts on Jack Zimmermann?”

“Jack Zimmermann... like as a person? As a hockey player? Can you clarify the question?”

“How do you feel about his coming out?” the reporter says.

“I am fantastically proud. Jack’s a great teammate and friend and we’re lucky to have him here. I’m glad that he can really be himself. Not just because he’s a great guy, but also because I know nobody here would want anyone to feel unwelcome, especially someone who so clearly deserves to be here. And I know you didn’t specifically ask about this, but you did ask for my thoughts on Jack Zimmermann, so I’m going to tell you how great a hockey player he is. I mean,  _ game winning goal.” _

 

“We should make a drinking game out of how often they redirect to hockey,” Elena says, just quietly enough that her three-year-old won’t hear from where she’s crawled under a table to be a turtle.

“There isn’t anything to drink here, though,” Alicia replies. “Unless you want to do shots of Gatorade.”

 

“Obviously I am sad about not playing,” Tater says. “But we still won! I think if I had been hurt earlier, before finals, I would be more disappointed.”

“And can you give us some thoughts about Jack’s coming out at the end of the game?”

Tater beams. “I am so happy. I think it is only right, because he does so much for the Falconers. Did you see his game-winning goal?”

 

Elena, Alicia, and Bob each take a shot of Gatorade. Their shot glasses look suspiciously like the caps on Dayquil bottles. Bitty hadn’t paid attention when they were busy organizing the Gatorade shots— his vision had tunneled into the screen in front of him.

Tater stays up there for a long time, since people also want to talk to him about his injury. He responds to a lot of things with “No comment,” but when one reporter asks if he’s returning for the next season, he gives a definitive nod. “I will be ready for preseason games.”

George steps forward again to briefly confirm that yes, Mashkov is healing and will be able to play in preseason games. 

“That’s good,” Carrie says. “Although I can’t deny it was fun to watch the games with him.”

“Just ask for him to be mic’d up,” Alicia says.

“I might, honestly.” 

Bob pours out some more Gatorade shots, but then Jack takes George’s place in front of the reporters and Bitty is aware of a stillness descending over the room. Even some of the little kids look over at the TV for a second or two before going back to whatever game they’re playing.

 

Of course, Jack is nervous when he finally,  _ finally, _ takes Tater’s place. He’s kind of terrified, but it’s not that different from stepping onto the ice yesterday. He feels resolved, he feels ready, and most of all, he feels like going home and being with Bitty and his parents and whoever hasn’t left his apartment by now. Because no matter how  _ this _ goes, that’s still going to happen.

The press know that Jack is going to read a statement before they can start asking questions. They’re waiting with bated breath. There’s a little crease in Jack’s paper from where he’s been holding it, but he smooths it out, breathes, and starts to read.

“I’m a bisexual man,” he says. He’s had this drafted for a while— ever since he came out to George, who had rightly said that he should figure out what he wanted to say while he was feeling calm. (He’d edited it with a pen he borrowed from George, though, since these circumstances were pretty different from what he was imagining would go down when he wrote the statement.) “When I joined the NHL, I thought I would have to wait at least until retirement to really come out. I’ve been fortunate enough to have an incredibly supportive team and organization behind me, and when we won the Cup yesterday, celebrating the moment with my partner was all I wanted to do. So I did. I wish that wasn’t any more noteworthy than a straight person doing the same.”

When it becomes clear that Jack’s done talking, the room gets loud for a few seconds as all the reporters try to shout their questions over each other.

“Just wait for them to settle down,” George murmurs. 

Jack waits.

And he waits.

And he waits. Everyone seems determined to get their question answered first. He’s seen multiple people say their questions over and over, and only a few have actually given up.

George sighs minutely, but she doesn’t make any move to quiet them down. Maybe they’ll tire themselves out.

 

“I can’t tell if this is a good thing or not,” Bitty says.

Bob shrugs. “We’ll find out.”

 

In the end, Jack doesn’t remember much of anything from after he finished his statement. The questions were annoying, but predictable enough that he usually already had a response prepared.

Even the inevitable question about Kent wasn’t that bad, once he got through the answer he’d thought through before. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Kent, so he’d kept his answer to a vague but true response that they were best friends and he was closeted during juniors. Every word had been picked carefully, but Jack isn’t even sure he got it verbatim. Regardless, it’s been almost twenty minutes since they sat down in this cafe, and none of their phones are blowing up with alerts, so it must have been okay.

“George seemed happy when she said bye,” Bitty says.

Alicia nods. “Yeah, I bet she was glad you didn’t drop any more bombshells— not that I have any idea of what those could be. Just don’t do anything big in the next few days.”

“Like what?”

She laughs. “I don’t know, just don’t go wild without making sure George is cool with it. She doesn’t need any more surprises for a while.”

Jack smiles and Bitty says, “Haha, yeah.” (Normally Jack would chirp him about the ‘haha’, but right now he’s too busy trying to make sure his face doesn’t say anything stupid.)

“Good thing it’s the offseason, eh?” Bob says. “I think everyone needs a few days to just sit around doing nothing.”

“Personally, I can think of nothing better,” Bitty declares, and then all three of them start to bring up baking, but the server swoops in with their food and the conversation stops abruptly as they all pick up their forks.

 

When they get home, Bitty starts the process of looking through his notifications. The living room has miraculously been almost completely restored to its former state (one of the couch cushions is missing, but he’s pretty sure he saw it in the guest bedroom) and there’s a note on the kitchen counter saying that Lardo, Ransom, Holster, and Shitty have headed back to Massachusetts but they should definitely do this again. 

While Jack’s changing out of his suit, Bitty ignores all his Twitter notifications in favor of composing a Tweet. ‘ _ Thank you so much for y’all’s support. next video may not be for a week or two, but it’ll be a good one! :) see you there’ _

Admittedly, he hasn’t actually seen any of this support, but it has to be there. It’s not like any of his followers don’t know he’s gay, and they’re still watching his vlogs and asking him relationship questions.

He closes Twitter, opens his messages, and is about to tap on the messages from his mother— no, he should turn off read receipts first. He keeps them on for dragging purposes, usually, but in this case... yeah, he should turn them off.

So he does. And then he taps on his messages again, but he still hesitates before opening the messages— and then he taps on the ones from Coach instead.

Most of them are from before the game ended, comments on the Schooners’ defense or changes in gameplay from game six. There’s one from after it ended.

  
**Coach:** Junior? We saw you on tv, what’s going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yike so this just kept getting longer and longer and i finally had to accept that i could not wrap this up in three chapters, so i've added two-- one to finish this up and then one to return to the actual point of the fic, that being accidental marriage :) sorry for the long wait, life just kept happening!


	4. Round Three

Bitty stares at the text for a long time before he does anything.

There are so many ways to look at it— is Coach really that confused, or is he just giving Bitty an opportunity to take it back? ‘We saw you on TV’ is like the most ambiguous phrase he could have said.

Well. 

Coach asked what’s going on, so Bitty’s going to tell him— his father’s probably just playing dumb to get Bitty to explain, anyway.

 

**Eric:** I’m dating Jack.

 

His phone buzzes instantly— Coach must have had his phone on, which is honestly rare.

 

**Coach:** What do you mean?

**Eric:** I mean Jack is my boyfriend.

**Coach:** Romantically?

**Eric:** Yes

 

He refrains from adding a ‘how else?’ to that.

 

**Coach:** So what were you doing on tv then?

**Eric:** Celebrating

**Coach:** Yeah, but why?

**Eric:** The Falcs won the cup, everyone was celebrating.

**Coach:** But now everyone knows?

**Eric:** Yeah. A lot of people knew already.

**Coach:** How long have you been dating?

**Eric:** A year

 

It takes longer for Coach to reply that time. Finally, just when Bitty’s about to plug in his phone and go find his sweatpants, his phone buzzes again.

 

**Coach:** Why didn’t you tell us?

 

Well. No harm in getting straight to the point.

 

**Eric:** I’m afraid you’ll be mad.

**Coach:** I’m not.

 

Bitty stares at that message for a long time.

Long enough that when Jack reappears, he’s pretty sure he hasn’t moved, and then Jack says, “Bits? Everything okay?”

Bitty scrolls up to the top of the conversation and hands his phone over, and Jack sits down on the couch next to him as he reads.

Jack is a slow reader. He spends a lot of time thinking about every sentence or paragraph before moving on. Today is no different— he scrolls, slowly, holding the phone delicately, like he’s afraid he’ll break it. Bitty watches over his shoulder. The conversation is easier to think about once it’s over.

Except when Jack’s almost finished reading, his phone buzzes with another text from Coach.

 

**Coach:** Jack’s a good man. Very dedicated.

 

Bitty and Jack make eye contact, and then a laugh is bubbling out of Bitty’s throat, because  _ wow. _

“I don’t know if that’s an olive branch or what,” he’s saying when the phone buzzes again.

 

**Coach:** Tell him from me that last goal was great.

**Eric:** Yeah, it was beautiful

**Eric:** I will

**Coach:** OK. I have to go to an athletics department meeting, talk to you soon.

**Eric:** bye

 

Later that day, Jack digs out the marriage certificate and the rings again. “I don’t think we should leave these just lying around. We’ll lose them.”

“You say that like you have a new location in mind.” Bitty’s wearing his sweatpants now, and he doesn’t even remember what possessed him to get him to put on anything else in the first place, presser be damned— it’s not like he went in front of cameras. Anyway, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to wear anything more creative than sweats and a t-shirt for the next couple of days at  _ least. _

“Well, yeah,” Jack says. “I’ve got my diploma and passport and stuff all in one file folder. It makes sense to put these there too.”

“Okay.”

“Also, George said that she’s going on vacation so we shouldn’t do anything dramatic. She said it to the whole team, but she was making eye contact with me the whole time, so I’m pretty sure I know who that was aimed at.”

Bitty laughs. “I mean, I honestly can’t think of anything  _ else _ we could do, besides say something.”

“True. We can do whatever we want as long as nobody finds out about it.”

Jack turns around and starts to go back down the hallway, but before he can, Bitty says, “Uh, I was thinking of calling my mom today.”

Jack stops. “Today?” he repeats, like he’s not quite sure he heard right.

“Yeah.” Bitty holds up his phone. “Since she called earlier. I mean... it’s just polite to call back. To see what she wanted to say, you know.”

Jack puts the rings and the marriage certificate on the pool table. “Yeah. And your dad will have your back.”

“Yeah. Can you sit with me while I do it?”

“Of course.”

It’s almost four-thirty, which means Coach will be back from his meeting and she’ll probably be thinking about what to make for dinner. Maybe checking the pantry, maybe the fridge. She could also be at the supermarket, and that’s almost enough to get Bitty to put the phone down and vow to do it some other time, except... he doesn’t really want to wait.

That’s weird, considering he could be baking right now, and part of him does itch for a rolling pin or some bread dough or something. But Bitty kind of feels like he’s on a roll, what with having talked to Coach already and all that.

He dials.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Dicky.” She sounds worried. “We saw you on the TV, are you okay?”

“Uh... what do you mean?”

“You’re fine, right?”

“Yes?”

“Okay. Well, I was just worried you might be upset.” Bitty doesn’t say anything, which seems to be enough to get her to elaborate. “With people thinking you’re gay, and all that.”

“I am gay.”

“Oh!” Now she sounds surprised. “Well, that’s nice, but still, it seems awfully permanent to come out to so many people at once. What if you change your mind?”

Bitty takes a second to pick at a thread coming loose on the ankle of his left sweatpant leg before he says, “A lot of things are permanent, Mama.”

He’s not sure if the light glints off the rings on the pool table or if his eyes are just drawn to them anyway, but there they are, shining in the sunlight that hasn’t really started fading yet, not properly at least. It’s a bit early for that.

“You say that now, but I remember when you wanted to be an astronaut. Swore you were going to get hired by NASA. And then three years later you decided you didn’t want to do that anymore.”

“I can’t exactly change my mind about being gay.” He must sound irritated then, because Jack makes concerned eye contact. Bitty shifts to lean against him.

“Well, it’ll be harder now that so many people know.”

“You say that like you think I’m going to.” The thread is unraveling a little more, and Bitty probably shouldn’t be pulling on it so much, but he’ll just grab a pair of scissors and trim it once he’s off the phone.

She laughs. “Dicky, I thought a lot of things about myself were permanent when I was your age.”

“Yeah, but I’ll bet you never thought you were anything but straight.” Jack squeezes his shoulder. He must be sounding annoyed again.

Bitty can hear her sigh over the phone. “Sweetheart, I’m just trying to make sure you don’t do anything you’re going to regret later.”

“Everyone at Samwell has known I’m gay since freshman year. This isn’t exactly new for me.”

“Well. If it’s what you want, I guess I can’t stop you.”  _ Damn right, _ Bitty fills in mentally. “But I still want you and Jack to come down here so we can talk face to face. You know I’ve never liked having big conversations over the phone. How about the Fourth of July weekend, same as last year?”

“Not then,” Bitty says. He’s not going during the one weekend when the entire extended family will be around, and he’s not making Jack go then, either. “I’ll email the times that work for us to you and you let us know, okay?”

“Okay, sweetheart. And if it’s too hard to get away, let us know when would work for us to come up.”

“Okay.”

“Now, I need to get going, the bread’s just about done rising. I sent you the recipe yesterday for some cookies I tried out, your daddy says— I agree— they turned out a little too crumbly, though. If you manage to figure out a way to fix that before I do, let me know.”

“I’ll take a look,” Bitty promises, and now they’re back to familiar territory. Even though he knows both he and his mother have mastered baking and talking on the phone at the same time. “What kind of bread?”

“French, I was craving a roast beef dip for some reason so we’re having that tonight. Make sure you email me those dates, Dicky. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye,” he says, and then he hangs up.

“How was it?” Jack asks.

“ _ Ugh, _ her heart is in the right place but she was asking me all those things, you know the ones, like ‘are you really sure you’re gay?’ Like yes, Mother, I’m sure, I didn’t go through high school the way I did for  _ nothing _ .”

Jack is silent for a moment, and then he says, “I’m going to make some hot chocolate. And I will not be opposed to ordering takeout if you know what you want to eat.”

“...Thai?”

“Sounds good.” And then Jack gets up off the couch (Bitty lets himself flop into the space Jack left, since it’s a lying-on-the-couch kind of day) and goes to locate the tin Bitty’s filled with his own hot cocoa mix.

He sticks his leg up, contemplating the loose thread, but it’s long enough to just knot it, so that’s what he does, and then he gets up off the couch as well to make sure Jack adds the right number of marshmallows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg i am so sorry this took this long, i've been like on the edge of getting a cold so i've had all the tiredness with not enough actual symptoms to take time off :| but here is Round 3! (plus me realizing i never actually titled chapter 3, so now that's called round 2)  
> i've pretty much got chapter 5 outlined, so hopefully that'll be up faster than this was. enjoy! <3  
> -mel


	5. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter than usual, but i wanted to get something posted, so here you go!

George gets back from vacation and Bitty scours their schedule but every possible week seems too soon, or too far, or too close to the Fourth of July or preseason for him or preseason for Jack or the visit they’ve already got planned to see Bob and Alicia or Jack’s Cup Day. And he doesn’t feel very guilty about it when he emails his mother that yeah, she and Coach will have to fly up instead.

So now the Bittles are visiting in mid-July, the first time they’ve ever been to Providence (although why would they have come before). And Bitty is trying not to think about it, at least not yet.

He  _ might _ take out some of his nerves on bread dough, and he  _ might _ yell at the Food Network a little louder, but other than that, this seems to be working. At the very least, he doesn’t feel nearly as freaked out as he did by the idea of going back to Madison for the summer.

Somehow, Bitty winds up providing Jack’s and Coach’s email addresses to each other, since they want to talk about golf, and when he mentions to Jack that neither of his parents are particularly confident skaters, Jack instantly suggests an impromptu Family Skate while they’re in Providence. Bitty pitches it to his parents, because honestly, he’s much better at helping people skate than he is at having important conversations.

 

**Coach:** Do you think I’m the type of person to pass up coaching from an NHL player?

**Eric:** lol no

**Eric:** just figured i’d let you psych yourself up for it

 

**Mama:** I guess it is about time we finally learned! Maybe you can suggest to your coaches that they do something like that for Family Weekend too, I think that would be fun!

**Mama:** You will probably have to hold my hand every step of the way

**Eric:** hopefully by the end you won’t need me to

**Eric:** no shame in holding the wall, though

**Mama:** Good! Then I’ll bring my determination.

**Eric:** that will probably help lol

**Eric:** i usually bring something around for the management when i go, just as a thank you

**Mama:** Send me a list of their favorites if you’ve got one!

**Eric:** i have had a list since day ONE

**Eric:** sending it to you now

**Mama:** Thx!

 

The months pass, and neither Bitty nor his parents miss a single scheduled Skype, and he tells them more about LGBTQ+ groups at Samwell and how one of them tried to nominate him for president immediately after he brought in a blackberry pie. He tells them how he had to use index cards when he wanted to come out to Shitty, and how for his whole freshman year Ransom and Holster relentlessly tried to set him up with people (and that’s so much easier now that he can explain his reluctance to meet the girls they suggested).

In short, it’s kind of an outpouring of all the honesty Bitty’s mostly been reserving for Twitter. He relates the story of Jack’s graduation and their final project pie and all the bets that went around the team, and when he tries the cookie recipe with the oven temperature a bit lower and the cookies turn out fine, he tells them that too.

Once, his mother asks how long he’s been gay. Bitty says, “As long as I’ve existed,” and she says, “Okay,” and it feels like, well, something.

 

On the Fourth of July, a card arrives in the mail with a return address that Bitty knows by heart, has known by heart since he memorized it a week or two before they moved, mouth shaping the words and the thought of being somewhere else. 

It’s addressed to both him and Jack in his mother’s careful, curvy script that she only uses when she sends cards (her usual handwriting is just as curvy, but small enough that even she struggles to read it sometimes).

The inside has more of her handwriting, and some of Coach’s— smaller, but neater. It’s well-wishes from both of them for the Fourth of July, plus a note saying that they’re bringing baby pictures when they visit and nothing he can do will stop them. (Not with that exact wording, but the meaning is pretty clear.)

Oddly enough, that’s what spurs Bitty to start getting the guest room organized. It’s still a while before they’ll actually arrive, but what Bitty has learned over the years is that when he’s in the mood to do something productive, he has to use every last drop of motivation before it vanishes.

Of course, there’s not much he has to do for the guest room. The last time they used it was when Shitty dropped by for the weekend, and the rest of the time it just sits in its clean, showroom-y splendor that’s the kind of thing that happens when someone (Jack) buys the entire bedroom furnishing set, area rugs and all. Which is good, honestly, because it means all Bitty really has to do is make sure evil spirits haven’t wandered in and messed it up.

They have not, and he heads back to the kitchen table to finish editing his video about easily portable cookouts.

 

It feels surreal when his parents walk through the door into Jack’s apartment. Coach has both suitcases, because his mother is cradling a box like it’s Aunt Judy’s two-week-old granddaughter. She sets it down meaningfully on the counter, and then the hugs and greetings start.

Bitty keeps his eye on the box, because it’s got the Williams Sonoma logo on top, but they’ve got so many of those boxes that it could be anything, really. Nevertheless, if they took it on an airplane, it must be important.

And it doesn’t take long, once his parents have been shown to the guest room and put down their suitcases and they’ve all come back into the kitchen to finish the leftovers of the cinnamon pear pie Bitty had made yesterday (between him and Jack, they couldn’t finish it all), for Suzanne to pick up the box again and put it next to Bitty on the table.

They all look at it for a second, before Coach chuckles and says, “You can open it, Junior.”

He lifts the top off, and inside is a glass cake stand, brand new, and Bitty immediately looks back up at his mother for an explanation.

“When I graduated college, your Moomaw gave me a casserole dish for my apartment. I know you’ve got a year left, but since you’ve been here so much, we figured we might as well give it to you early.”

“And Jack said you already had a casserole dish,” Coach adds.

 

Jack does not mention that it took him half an hour of Googling to figure out what precisely made a casserole dish different from anything else that went in the oven, and then it took him another half an hour to find a casserole dish already in the apartment.

It was worth it, though, because Bitty looks like they just gave him the world. He carefully lifts the cake stand (which Jack is pretty sure will become a pie stand in the near future) out of the box and places it in the center of the table, and then he stares at it with his eyes shining.

He doesn’t say thank you out loud, but everyone in the room knows what he means when Bitty seizes both of his parents in a tight hug. And then he says, “You are  _ not _ exempt from this, Monsieur Zimmermann. Get over here.”

Their group hug is almost like a football huddle, and that thought almost makes Jack laugh, but he does his best to keep it to a smile wide enough that he feels like he’s stretching his face muscles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there we have it! hopefully i can cram everything else into one last chapter. if not, it'll probably be a chapter 6 + epilogue thing. 
> 
> next chapter will be a return to some ridiculousness!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, kudosing, and commenting <3  
> -mel


	6. Friends

If Bitty is being honest, it feels like they’re playing a huge prank on their friends.

It’s been about six months, and still, literally any mention of marriage is enough to get him to laugh internally. He doesn’t see Jack as often during the school year, since he actually needs to be around for his Captainly Duties™ on the weekends now, but they Skype all the time, and sometimes Jack comes up to Samwell. Every time that happens, the nearest Swallow reporter pretty much faints, although now they go for photos over interviews since Bitty started reciting cookie recipes at them. (But not his pie recipes— they don’t deserve them.)

For his part, Jack has mastered the art of looking the Swallow reporter dead in the eye and telling them he has no idea who Jack Zimmermann is and he certainly doesn’t know who the blond man next to him is or why he’s there.

The rings and the marriage certificate are still at Jack’s place, which is enough for Bitty to forget sometimes that they’re married, as long as he doesn’t hear about it. Not much has really changed, especially when Bitty is at Samwell, except that whenever the topic of marriage comes up, Bitty is just itching to discuss his own.

He toys with the idea of at least talking about how he wants to propose, since he and Jack did agree that they’re going to go through the motions of that once Bitty graduates. (By that time, Jack will be a bit more established in the NHL as well, so it’s a double win.) They haven’t decided  _ who’s _ going to propose, though, so Bitty has decided it’s probably going to be a race and he is going to win because in April he is going to take Jack’s ring out of the file folder and bring it back with him to Samwell and keep it in his graduation robes during the ceremony. (He’s pretty sure Jack is going to attempt the same thing, which is why Bitty needs to wear really comfortable pants on graduation day so he can get on one knee faster. And he needs to get the ring into his hand during the ceremony so he doesn’t have to dig it out from under his robes afterwards.)

Once December hits, everyone’s talking about their holiday plans. Bitty’s going to be in Providence, with his parents and Alicia and Bob. Hanukkah ends a couple days before Christmas, which is good because they’ll need a day or two to rest before starting up the second cooking storm.

He says as much to Nursey, who replies, “Damn, that’s like the most domestic thing I’ve ever heard. Sounds great,” and then asks if he’s getting anything for Bad Bob and if so what is it. (Bitty is presenting Bob with a compilation of his dessert recipes, and he has been duly warned not to offer such a thing to Alicia unless he wants pictures of increasingly horrifying versions of his recipes. So he’s giving her some tins of loose-leaf tea, with substantial input from Jack about what flavors.)

Both the Zimmermanns and the Bittles are staying in hotels, since Jack only has one guest room, but they’ll all be spending the majority of their time moving between the couch and the kitchen. Such is the nature of winter holidays in places where it usually snows. Bitty’s made Bob vow to teach him how to make, well, everything Bob is making for their Hanukkah dinner. He feels pretty confident in saying that it’s going to be a good holiday.

 

And it is!

His mother gets over her Bad Bob... thing in about the length of time it takes to open a bottle of wine (because Bitty is actually twenty-one by now and doesn’t have to pretend he’s never heard of alcohol), and by the time dinner’s over, Bob and Bitty’s mom are trying to get each other to sign up for Twitter and Pinterest, respectively, to follow each other.

It feels right. He feels like this is the way things were supposed to end up.

On the last day, right before his parents leave for the airport, Coach says quietly to him, “Hold on to him.” And Bitty nods and grins, because he doesn’t know what to say, and that seems to be enough.

Damn, it is going to be difficult getting through the rest of this year without spilling.

Of course, Bitty can talk about Jack now! Saying ‘boyfriend’ instead of ‘husband’ is a  _ lot _ easier than saying ‘friend’ instead of ‘boyfriend’. And that is a relief, but saying ‘boyfriend’ just feels so trivial now. He is practically bursting with the desire to mention it, just once.

“Me too,” Jack says when Bitty says it one morning in early January. “I was thinking about it and I think... well, if we say something to just one or two people it wouldn’t be bad, right?”

“And who did you have in mind, Monsieur Zimmermann?” Bitty asks, because Jack definitely has people in mind. The only question is how much his list matches up with Bitty’s.

“Shitty,” Jack says without hesitation. “And George, I guess, just because she should probably know when we start telling people.”

“I didn’t consider George, but that makes sense.” Bitty is aimlessly scrolling through Joe Johnson’s Twitter, but now he opens his text messages. “And yeah, I want to tell Shitty. Hopefully without index cards this time.”

“We should invite him over,” Jack says, right before Bitty hits ‘send’.

“One step ahead of you.” Bitty shows him the phone.

 

**Bitty:** yo when is ur next break? bc the guest room in pvd misses u

 

It only takes a couple minutes for Shitty to reply with the dates of his next long weekend and a request to inform the guest room that he misses it too.

“Huh. That’s pretty soon,” Jack says.

“We don’t have to tell him then if you don’t want to? I mean, we’re not committed. We can just hang out with him like usual.”

Jack shakes his head. “No, I want to. I’m just surprised. It feels like he was just here. Time flies, eh?”

“Sure does.” Bitty’s grinning now— he can’t help it, it’s just that he cannot wait for Shitty to get there, and huh, there is probably a better chance of that happening if he actually replies to tell Shitty to come visit then. “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“I’m glad we got married when we did. Now we don’t have to do paperwork when we have our real wedding.” Bitty’s taken to calling their future ceremony the ‘real wedding’ because really, he cares less about how marriage affects his taxes (shit, those will happen eventually and they’ll need to figure them out together) and more about how it’ll affect his day-to-day life. Not much is going to change there until they’re ‘officially’ married.

“I’m glad we got married when we did too.” The corner of Jack’s mouth quirks up. “Might have to fake going to sign papers, though, just so nobody gets suspicious.”

“Fuck, you’re probably right. Still, it’s better than actually having to do it.”

 

Bitty’s back at Samwell the next day, and he feels full to bursting with the knowledge that soon they’re going to tell Shitty. But ‘soon’ is still in a couple weeks, which is why when he finds Chowder coding in the kitchen, he says (well, stage whispers, really), “Hey, can you keep a super huge secret?”

Chowder looks up and grins. “Definitely!”

“Okay.” Bitty takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna propose to Jack at graduation.”

_ “Holy shit!” _ Chowder says, and then he glances around and murmurs, “I mean,  _ holy shit.” _

“I know, right?” Still quietly, Bitty relays his plan. He doesn’t mention that he thinks Jack is going to try to propose then too, just that he feels like it’s the right time, and Chowder buys it with the enthusiasm Bitty usually sees for topics like pie, Farmer, and the Sharks.

And now that he’s told Chowder something, and they’re going to tell Shitty something, Bitty feels much better about it.

 

Bitty’s still on the train when Shitty gets to the apartment, which is why Jack feels no qualms about saying, “Hey, want to know something?”

“Always,” Shitty says as he kicks his shoes off.

“I’m gonna propose to Bitty. At his graduation.”

Shitty whips around to face Jack. He would look like a deer in headlights, except for his massive grin. “ _ Brah. _ That’s fucking fantastic!”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “I just think it’s time, you know? Like he basically lives here already, and I guess I’ve kind of known for a while that he’s it for me, and I know he really wants to plan a fancy wedding, so. It just made sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Shitty avows. “If you need a hand with literally anything, call me and I will be there before you hang up.”

“Really? Because I’ll hold you to that.”

“Oh, you knew I was being metaphorical.”

“Were you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not so sure,” Jack says, employing as much willpower as he can to keep from smiling.

Whatever Shitty does see on his face, it gets him to laugh and bear hug Jack, saying, “Damn, we need to visit more often. Have some motherfucking tea parties, or pie parties, or whatever. I have missed your beautous mug.”

“First of all, I was at Harvard like three weeks ago, and second of all I agree.”

Jack’s phone buzzes, and he knows without looking that it’s probably Bitty saying he’s off the train, but he checks anyway, both because he likes seeing the text notification from Bitty and because this way he can show Shitty the message.

 

**Bits:** just got an uber and check ur fridge bc tmrw i want to make eggs benedict

**Jack:** I have eggs and English muffins. Not sure what goes into the sauce but I’m pretty much out of spinach so we’ll have to go shopping anyway.

**Bits:** awesome! see you in 10  <3

**Jack:** <3

 

“What’s in Hollandaise sauce?” he asks Shitty.

“Lemon... I think.”

They look at each other in silence for a couple seconds before Jack takes his phone out again and just looks it up.

 

It’s over the eggs benedict (which are fantastic) that Jack breaks the news.

He and Bitty had agreed the night before to make sure that whoever said it first, they would make sure it was after Bitty had gotten some coffee and while nobody was drinking or chewing anything.

He’s not following that one hundred percent, but it’s because he knows Shitty will not be in danger of spewing food by the time he actually says the words, and that’s because this is how he starts:

“So, we kind of have news?” Jack says. Bitty sips his coffee and Shitty nods and finishes his bite of eggs benedict, then puts down his fork. “I mean, it’s not  _ new _ news, but it’s new for you, it’s just not new to us, that’s why I’m calling it news.” He breathes, because for all of that long sentence he hadn’t. “So Bitty and I are married!”

Shitty blinks, then he blinks again, then he says, “Brah, what?”

And hm. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to tell Shitty last night that he was going to propose to Bitty, because now Shitty is probably more confused than he needed to be.

“We went to the city hall after the Stanley Cup,” Bitty explains. “Neither of us really remembers it happening, but we’ve got the marriage certificate and everything.”

“We’re still going to have a wedding, though,” Jack says as he wills Shitty to put the pieces together. (Not that it’s a disaster if he doesn’t, because Jack will just find a time when Bitty’s out of earshot to explain.) “And we’re probably not going to tell most people that we were already married.”

Now Shitty looks like he understands what’s going on— Jack can tell because he’s beaming. “That’s fantastic! Not the not telling people, the married part. I mean, you were already pretty married. And I’m super honored that you wanted to tell me. Like I may shed a tear. But no worries, it’ll be a tear of joy!”

“Save those for the wedding,” Bitty says. “And while we’re talking about it, we’d like you to be a groomsman.” (That was also something they’d talked about last night. Since their closest friends are all the same people, it would be way too difficult to have separate parts of the bridal party. That’s also what makes it too difficult for them to choose any best men or maids of honor, so they’re probably going to have a lot of speeches.)

Shitty’s eyes start watering as he nods enthusiastically, and that’s enough to make Jack feel like he’s going to start crying, so he says “Group hug” before he gets a lump in his throat and can’t say anything.

He doesn’t remember who suggested telling someone that they’re married, but it was definitely the right way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to get this up before my life is consumed by rehearsals! also, yes, there'll be another chapter chapter, plus an epilogue. that's why there are 8 total now instead of 6. sorry for the super fast author's note, i'm about to leave for dinner, but thank you so much for reading, kudosing, and commenting!  
> love, mel <3


	7. Race/Celly

Jack knows— he  _ knows _ — that Bitty is going to do his best to propose first on graduation day. He also knows that Bitty is considerably closer to the ground than he is, so he can probably get on one knee faster, and Jack isn’t one for fighting losing battles.

So he just has to develop a better strategy. It’ll probably involve shouting Bitty’s full name at the top of his lungs as he sprints toward him, so Bitty has less time to realize what’s going on because he’s confused about why someone is yelling his name. It’s not foolproof, of course, but— 

“Uh, Jack?” George says. 

“Right. Sorry.” Because maybe it’s not a great idea to start thinking about proposal plans while you’re about to tell your boss that you’re married.

He’s got a photocopy of the marriage certificate, and he just puts it down on her desk, since George is always busy and this seemed like the fastest way to let her know. Also, the three of them had hung out in the kitchen until one in the morning (at first they were talking about weddings, but eventually it shifted to ties and then to Shitty’s new favorite professor), and Jack is too tired to make words do the thing.

George stares at the photocopy for a couple of seconds, and then she looks at Jack and says, “Okay?”

“Bitty and I got married,” Jack says, and then the whole story comes spilling out, right up until yesterday morning. “And we don’t want to do anything until he’s graduated, and then we’re going to have a wedding ceremony and just not say we’re already married. But we thought you should know. And I promise, no more surprises now.”

And then George laughs and says, “There’s always more surprises. They may just not be coming from your direction. And congratulations. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Me too.”

“But just one thing...” And she points to the line where the witness’ signature was scrawled. “You remember I was there, right?”

“Holy shit.” Jack can feel his mouth hanging open. “What were you doing at the city hall in the middle of the night?”

“Trying to figure out why you called me there,” George says. “Since apparently your best efforts didn’t convince the judge that the Stanley Cup was a legal witness.”

He takes a closer look at the witness’ signature, and it’s still illegible, but the more he looks at it the more the first letter looks like a G. “I forgot.”

“No kidding,” she says, but she says it with a smile. “Thanks for telling me anyway. And congrats on your future engagement.”

“Thank you,” Jack says, not just for the congratulations, and George’s nod makes him sure that she knows what he means.

 

A week before he graduates from Samwell, Bitty takes out the folder holding their marriage certificate and rings.

“I just want to look at it,” he half-lies. “Because soon people will know. And besides, you’re here all the time, you can see it whenever you want.”

Jack doesn’t question that, maybe because he’s half talking with Bitty and half reading and therefore isn’t thinking too closely about why Bitty might want to see the marriage certificate now, and he tells Bitty where it is and then he’s back to his book. (Which, Bitty doesn’t blame him. The Falconers have been working harder than ever to try and get to the finals— if Bitty was in that situation, he would definitely need some downtime.)

So, he leaves Jack to his reading and goes to execute the rest of his plan.

Speaking of the plan, Lardo’s in on it too, now— she was the one who told him that the craft store (the big one, not the expensive one) by Samwell sold empty ring boxes for like, two bucks. Which is great, because Bitty didn’t see any way to get one, but now there’s one in the zippered pocket of his duffel bag.

He takes the marriage certificate out, grabs one of the rings and sticks it in his pocket (he’ll get it into the ring box once he’s smuggled the ring safely out of the room— his pants aren’t loose enough to put it in a pocket without Jack noticing), and then, for good measure and also because he wants to, takes a look at the marriage certificate.

Jack had told him about what Georgia said, and he can sort of see an M on the witness signature line if he squints. He wishes he remembers that night better, honestly. Not only would it prevent little accidents like this one, he would also be able to remember the night he got  _ married. _ (Although Bitty is pretty sure that it was not a grand occasion. The pictures Jack took are proof enough of that.)

He’s really looking forward to being able to tell everyone that he has a husband.

Which is why he should probably go hide the ring in his bag right now, so that he can execute his plan properly.

 

“I got the ring!” he tells Chowder when he gets back to Samwell that afternoon. 

 

On a hunch, after Bitty’s left for Samwell, Jack goes to check the folder holding the marriage certificate and rings, and he is not surprised at all to find the larger ring missing. Bitty was definitely looking a little bit shifty early.

This just confirms that Bitty’s planning to propose— he definitely needs to step up his game to get there first.

 

She answers on the second ring.

“Hi, Alicia!”

“Hi, Bitty! What’s up?”

“Okay, so I’ve got this plan for graduation, but I need your help to do it.”

 

**Jack-O:** I have a mission for you.

**Jack-O:** For graduation.

**Shitty:** absofuckinglutely!!!

 

On graduation day, Jack knows something is up when his parents herd him and Shitty to the seats right by a staircase. He mainly notices because if he was picking the seats, they would be dead center. And they’re way off to the right, so something is up.

The other thing he notices that makes him suspicious is that somehow, the entirety of the current Samwell Men’s Hockey team, or at least what seems like the entirety of it, is seated around them.

“This is not inconspicuous,” Jack says to the back of Chowder’s head (who’s seated in front of him). Chowder just turns around and grins.

The gist of Jack’s plan is that Bitty learned not to interrupt people at an age so young that it’s practically a part of him. Shitty, on the other hand, can talk for as long as necessary (or longer). Therefore, he just needs Shitty to chat to Bitty about whatever he can until Jack can make his approach. They’ve already agreed that Jack is going to interrupt Shitty, just for the sake of the plan. He’s got the ring in his pocket and he  _ might _ be wearing knee pads under his slacks, but only because he might have to slide into position like a baseball player going for home base and he doesn’t want to hurt his knees.

The keynote speaker is forgettable (at least to him— most people seem to be paying rapt attention, but Jack... isn’t). Their whole section cheers wildly for Bitty, Ollie, and Wicks when they receive their diplomas, and then it’s the closing remarks and then it’s  _ over _ , which means it’s time.

He glances at Shitty, who nods and gets up. Whiskey, who’s sitting on Shitty’s other side, gives him a suspicious look, but when Jack doesn’t get up and try to follow him, Whiskey lets Shitty get by and leave the seating area.

_ Good. _

“That was great,” Jack says to his parents. “Let’s go find Bitty, eh?”

“No,” his father says. “We’re gonna stay here for a little while.”

His mother’s phone buzzes, and she glances at it and says, “Hey, Jack, look at this.”

When she hands her phone to him, it’s got a Youtube video playing, with a  _ very _ familiar voice narrating as a pair of very familiar hands pour maple syrup into a bowl.

Bitty’s voice walks Jack (and his parents, and all the other members of the hockey team around them) through the process of making a maple-crusted apple pie. When he pulls it out of the oven, he starts his customary recap (it always magically takes just enough time that he can cut into the pie by the time he’s done), and then says, “But this needs one last finishing touch before it’s ready to serve.”

The camera returns to a top-down view of the pie as Bitty gently places a ring right on top, in the center of the lattice.

“Perfect,” Bitty says in voiceover. “Jack, hon, you can turn around.”

Jack turns around as best as he can in his chair, and there’s Bitty, in graduation robes and a shit-eating grin, and Shitty, looking somewhat guilty.

“I’m not that eloquent,” Bitty says. “So I’ll keep this short. Jack Laurent Zimmermann, these past few years with you have been a  _ wild _ ride and now I can’t imagine anything else. Will you marry me?” And then he pops open the ring box he must have been holding behind his back (the rows of chairs are too close to each other for him to kneel), and says, “I promise I cleaned it after that whole pie thing.”

“Of course,” Jack says. “Of course I will.”

 

The video Chowder took of Bitty’s proposal goes viral in less than six hours, probably because he tweets it at the official NHL twitter, which retweets it.

“He didn’t even give me a chance, brah,” Shitty says to Jack as soon as he gets the chance. “I found him and I couldn’t even say anything, he just said, ‘Shitty, I don’t think you’ve realized, but this is a race and Jack has lost.’ Word for word.”

“That’s fair,” Jack says. “I probably should have made a sign instead.”

By popular request, Bitty has made his Youtube proposal video viewable by the public, and that goes viral too, both because it’s a good recipe and because of the ring.

It hasn’t really sunk in for Jack yet that they did it, they did a proposal, they’re both married and engaged right now, and— maybe the most important thing— the vast majority of people only know about the latter.

Of course, there are still some thinkpieces about whether they’re moving too fast. Jack reads the first paragraph of one of them, rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he’s going to pull something, and closes the tab, vowing not to open any other links to articles like that.

Besides, he’s got plenty of other tabs to look at— venues, florists, various iterations of guest lists, and catering— Bitty is convinced he’s going to make the hors d’oeuvres, and everyone else is convinced that’s not going to happen. Jack is pretty sure the best way to get Bitty to let go of that idea is by asking Suzanne and Moomaw to make the hors d’oeuvres instead, but he also has no idea if that’s considered an appropriate thing to do, so instead he’s compiling as many links to caterers’ websites as he can and hoping for the best.

 

The actual day of the wedding, that fall, is the weirdest Jack has ever had, because time refuses to pass at a normal rate. The waiting before the ceremony is interminable, but the ceremony itself zips by in a flash, except for one moment right at the beginning when it slows to a crawl as he drinks in the sight of Bitty standing next to him and all their friends nearby, as well as the chuppah above them (which is the only religious element in the ceremony— they’d been hesitant to suggest it, but the Bittles thought it sounded lovely).

And then time speeds up again— Jack watches Shitty struggle to censor himself, his dad introduces himself as ‘Mr. Bitty’s Father-In-Law’, Lardo’s speech (which chronicles Jack and Bitty’s relationship) receives a standing ovation from the Samwell hockey team, and Chowder semi-impulsively (he’d already asked Jack and Bitty if it would be okay for him to say something) tells the entire audience how Jack and Bitty each changed his life and how thrilled he is that this is happening, and that leaves a couple people with wet eyes, and then when Chowder’s speech ends, the dancing section has officially begun.

When they’d been picking a date for the wedding, they’d had to decide between getting officially married in the middle of the season or having to wait for at least a year, but then George had swooped in with a week of no games in November, and the decision was pretty much done.

“Hey,” Bitty says from next to him. Light glints off his champagne flute and the ring on his hand. “I can officially call you my husband in public now.”

“I am  _ definitely _ going to forget that we can do that now,” Jack replies.

“I haven’t figured out if I’m going to forget or be hyper-aware of it constantly.”

“Okay, true.”

Lardo waves at them from across the room and gives the thumbs-up that means that Halo is next.

“Ready?” Jack asks.

Bitty sets down his champagne. “Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy this is a long ass (and eventful) chapter! but after this there's just a short epilogue and then this will be done!!!  
> thank you so much for reading, kudosing, and commenting! <3  
> -mel


	8. Epilogue: Later

It’s a few years later, in June, that it happens.

The Falconers have just won their third Stanley Cup, a substantial number of Samwell alums are packed into their apartment in the last time there will ever be a Stanley Cup celebration there (the move-in date for their house is in a few weeks), and everyone’s kind of tipsy.

That last point is the most important one, because when Jack quietly says to Bitty, “You know, this is like our fifth real anniversary,” he’s not expecting anyone to be paying attention.

Bitty’s eyes light up and he says, also quietly (he’s not that drunk because early in the night he installed himself next to the snack table and has been drinking as least as much water as whatever else he’s been drinking), “That’s halfway to ten years. Holy shit.”

Shitty and Chowder are the only people close enough to hear, and Shitty pays it no regard (after all, he does already know), but Chowder sits up from where he’s been sprawling over the couch and says, “Halfway to ten years of what?”

“Uh,” Jack says, and he and Bitty make eye contact, and then Bitty shrugs, and Jack shrugs back at him, and then Bitty says, “Marriage?”

Chowder frowns a little. “That doesn’t make sense, you only got married like three years ago. How can you have half a decade?”

When Jack and Bitty don’t provide any math miracles to explain, Chowder shrugs and sprawls out on the couch again. “Whatever. ‘M not sober enough for that. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Jack says, but he’s pretty sure Chowder is already asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny little epilogue but i did feel the need to wrap up the whole reason the story happened lol
> 
> anyway!!!! WOW i am so glad this turned much longer than i anticipated, although i'm sad now that it's done aw but anyway!!! thanks so much to itsybittle for coming up with the idea in the first place and may we all make it through the rest of hiatus quickly :)
> 
> love, mel


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